


cat naps

by devilsalwayscry



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Fluff, Incest, M/M, Silly, Soft Kisses, pre-dmc5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:55:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22501312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilsalwayscry/pseuds/devilsalwayscry
Summary: Nero is not in his usual spot in the passenger's seat, and so V opens his mouth to inquire into the other man's whereabouts just as his foot collides with something surprisingly firm and heavy, sending him stumbling. It's Griffon who manages to right him, the demon's talons tearing through the back of V's leather vest as he latches on and hauls him backward, and V hisses out a pained sound of annoyance as the creature's claws drag along his back."Careful there, V," Nico says, although she does little to offer him assistance—not that he needs it, necessarily, but all the same. With a low grumble of annoyance he rights himself, leaning on his cane to help steady his balance as he casts a glance down to the van floor in an effort to find what he's tripped over."You're kidding," he says, quietly, because Nero is passed out cold on the floor at his feet, sprawled in an inelegant stretch that looks impossibly uncomfortable.
Relationships: Nero/V (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 153
Collections: Spardacest Server Fics and Art





	cat naps

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cascadedEquilibrium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cascadedEquilibrium/gifts).



> For the Spardacest winter Secret Santa, for the prompt "Nero falling asleep in the weirdest places and surprising the other person because they didn't see him." I hope this is to your liking! 
> 
> Thank you blessed big shoe for helping me with ideas for Nero's very absurd sleeping positions, ily. <3

"You sure it's a good idea to spend time with them, V? You get too buddy-buddy and they might figure you out," Griffon says as V slips into the first functioning phone booth he's managed to find amidst the wreckage of Red Grave City. They don't both fit inside of the small, cramped booth, and so Griffon is restricted to perching upon the top of it. He leans down to peer through the glass, upside down and more than a little ruffled at being forced to remain outside, so he may continue his pointless warning unhindered. "Let's just find another apartment to break into or something."

V sighs. "That wouldn't resolve our problem," V says. "Besides, I doubt they will be... attentive enough to notice anything amiss." 

"Well, yeah, they don't seem like the brightest crayons in the box, but aren't we supposed to be bein' cautious? Seems like an unnecessary risk, even for you," Griffon says, stretching his wings in what V can only assume is supposed to be something akin to a shrug.

V ignores him. Risk though it may be, there are certain amenities they no longer have access to as the infrastructure of the city continues to deteriorate. He has been unable to find a residence with running water in two days, which is bothersome for a number of reasons, the least of which being the overwhelming desire to wash his hair and clothes.

In his lifetime he has grown quite accustomed to going without certain conveniences, yet that was before, when he had other means to deal with complications such as a lack of food and water. Now, as it currently stands, he cannot afford the same indifference, and the barrenness of the city poses a very real concern.

Nero and Nico, however, possess the facilities that he has found himself in desperate need of, and so he has decided to reluctantly turn to them for aid.

The devil hunters have been a constant presence in Red Grave since they arrived last week, as engaged with the evacuation efforts as V himself, yet they have largely stuck to their own path. This was for the better, in V's mind—Nero has failed in his immediate task of defeating Urizen, and his focus now is best spent on defeating enemies and becoming stronger, a task he has taken to with stubborn, bullish determination. 

Yet it has become impossible to ignore the situation in which he currently finds himself, with resources becoming scarce and demons becoming increasingly frequent, and so V fishes into his pocket for the small slip of paper upon which Nero had written their phone number. With a deep sigh he deposits the required change into the phone—because of course it still requires currency, despite how destroyed everything around it may be—and taps out the number without hesitation.

Griffon has lost interest in V now that he is no longer engaging in a conversation with him, taking to flying circles around the area as a form of entertainment. V watches the familiar fly around the street, shooting jolts of lightning at anything that catches his eye, while he listens to the phone's tinny ring. Perhaps they won't answer, he thinks, shifting the phone to his other shoulder as he returns the slip of paper to his pocket. Perhaps they've gone, or he's overestimated their potential, and they've been defeated by some lowly demons.

Before he can continue down that particular path of brooding his thoughts are interrupted by a quiet click, followed by a familiar voice on the other line.

"Devil May Cry."

"Nico," V says, pausing to allow the woman a moment for generic pleasantries. "I could use your assistance." 

"Sure thing. Where ya at?"

Griffon provides an answer without prompting, a quiet voice in V's mind: _"Fifth and Elmore. By a park."_ V relays the information, receiving a promise that they will arrive as soon as they are able to do so, and with a pointed click he drops the phone once more on the receiver.

Griffon is quick to return to V's side as soon as he emerges from the phone booth, the demon settling upon his shoulder with a quiet noise of annoyance. What he's annoyed about, exactly, is anyone's guess, and so V simply ignores him as he finds a comfortable—and demon free—spot to settle down while he waits.

True to her word, Nico arrives with a roar of the van's engine and only minimal property damage, skidding to a halt before V as if she'd perfectly planned her trajectory to stop immediately before him. He has seen it enough times to begin to suspect that she has in fact planned this, as chaotic as it may seem, because he simply cannot believe that she relies solely on luck to avoid any possible accidents. As much as he hates to be involved in her terrible driving habits, he can admit that it is impressive, and he offers her a friendly, if stiff, nod in welcome as he enters the van.

Nero is not in his usual spot in the passenger's seat, and so V opens his mouth to inquire into the other man's whereabouts just as his foot collides with something surprisingly firm and heavy, sending him stumbling. Griffon manages to right him, the demon's talons tearing through the back of V's leather vest as he latches on and hauls him backward, and V hisses out a pained sound of annoyance as the creature's claws drag along his back.

"Be careful there, V," Nico says, although she does little to offer him assistance—not that he needs it, necessarily, but all the same. With a low grumble of annoyance he rights himself, leaning on his cane to help steady his balance as he casts a glance down to the van floor in an effort to find what he's tripped over.

"You're kidding," he says, quietly, because Nero is passed out cold on the floor at his feet, sprawled in an inelegant stretch that looks impossibly uncomfortable.

The young hunter has one leg thrown onto the sofa with the other stretched out down the aisle. His left arm is shoved beneath the chair and table, wrapped around the legs of both, and his face is covered with a glossy magazine, the grinning visage of a half-dressed woman staring up at V almost mockingly.

The temptation to jab Nero in the chest with his cane in retaliation for tripping him is so overwhelming that V is forced to breath out through his teeth, instead choosing to carefully step over the other man's leg so he can settle upon the couch. There's room enough for him here, at least, despite Nero's ridiculous sprawl, and so V settles in and attempts to make himself comfortable in the presence of the others.

Relaxing around other humans has never been something V has excelled at, least of all now, when the threat of being discovered for what he really is looms over him like a proverbial ax. Yet there's something comforting about it all the same, and he finds himself breathing a little more easily, the tension loosening from his shoulders as he sits and simply observes Nero while he sleeps.

Although he cannot see his face, it is clear that Nero is deeply asleep, his limbs—despite their ridiculous angles—limp and languid in his slumber. A quiet snore comes from beneath the magazine, soft and rhythmic in a way that is more calming than irritating, and V finds himself smiling faintly at the simple, mundane nature of it. 

That Nero is capable of continuing to sleep despite V's presence is no doubt a result of his still slumbering demon, if he even has one. The introduction of a new potential threat into his vicinity while he is in repose should have been enough to wake him, let alone the fact that V very nearly tripped over him, and the fact that he continues to sleep is both oddly endearing and somewhat troubling. Perhaps his heritage is not exactly as V expected it.

His slumber at least affords V an opportunity to observe him without worrying about potential interruption, and so V allows himself a moment to simply watch the other man sleep. At some point during his nap he appears to have tangled himself up in his own coat, his shirt riding up on his torso as a result, and V finds his eyes drawn to the thin strip of pale skin that this reveals on his navel. Muscular and lean, clearly fit from fighting—his style relies on brute strength, and it shows in his build, stocky and trim.

"Hey, V," Nero says from beneath the magazine, and V stiffens in surprise.

"So you're awake," he says, to cover his moment of alarm, and Nero laughs, pulling his leg down from the couch with a loud thud before removing the magazine from his face.

"Yeah. I mean, you kinda did kick me," he says with a lopsided grin, and V can feel the warmth that crawls up the back of his neck in shame at being caught in such an uncharacteristically clumsy act.

He sighs. "And you were asleep on the floor."

"I was tired. Trust me, it's better than that piece of shit bed Nico's shoved in the back," Nero says with a shrug. He pushes himself to his feet and then takes a seat across from V in one of the chairs, propping his arm on the table and resting his chin upon his palm. Nero watches V out of narrowed, pale blue eyes for one quiet, skeptical moment before he seems satisfied by what he sees, and instead he nods.

"What brings you here, anyway? Kinda figured you were more the lone wolf type."

It is V's turn to shrug. "I am in need of some assistance," he says, despite the way the admission makes him feel frustratingly inadequate. There is nothing to be done about his situation otherwise, he reminds himself, as he explains to Nero the situation in Red Grave.

Nero takes this in stride, his easy and frankly absurd desire to help others at any available opportunity clearly winning out over any lingering reservations he may have about V's true intentions. With a laugh he climbs to his feet, crossing through the van to the small shower that's been installed toward the back.

He gestures at this with his hand, pulling open the door to give V a rundown on how to turn on the water and where to find any toiletries he might need.

"You're well prepared," V says, after Nero has finished his quick tour of the small, makeshift bathroom. 

Nero laughs, rubbing his hand against the back of his hair. "Yeah. We do a lot of traveling, and you really never know what you're gonna find when it comes to demons, so better to stock up."

He talks to V as if he's known him for months, not days, and V cannot help but to smile faintly at him in return, muttering a quiet "thank you" under his breath as he slips into the shower. It is a strange sensation to work together with someone who is, at least in some ways, more capable than himself, a fact V finds himself dwelling on while he cleans up.

It is nice, in some ways. 

_That is a dangerous prospect_ , he thinks, and Griffon, ever the optimist, simply laughs in his mind.

***  
They develop a schedule to meet regularly to share information and amenities during their time in Red Grave. Nero and Nico leave town more than once, to work on some project of Nico's that she promises will help give Nero the edge he needs to defeat Urizen, but they return each time, a fact that remains novel to V despite the frequency of its occurrence.

He is growing comfortable with their presence, fond of their oddities and stranger habits, and the feeling that beats in his breast when he sets eyes on the van as it approaches his location is complicated and foreign. He ignores it as best as he can, because it is a dangerous distraction from the task at hand, but he cannot deny that he's grown accustomed to the devil hunters.

Nero in particular instills this feeling in him tenfold, a fierce fondness that beats beneath his ribs and flutters to life in his stomach like the wings of a bird given sudden, desperate life. There is something about the other man that is captivating, and at first V tells himself that it is simply the way that Nero fights—savagely effective, yet almost playful, quips and commentary leaving his lips even as he cartwheels around his enemies and slams his sword through their demonic carapaces.

Yet it is more than this that has drawn his attention, as reluctant as he is to admit it. Everything about Nero speaks to a casual, easy comfort; he is at home here, in this destroyed city infested with hordes of scavenger demons. That he's able to fit so easily into this lifestyle is a marvel to watch, and V somewhat admires him for this particular talent, even as he wonders what the boy's life must have been like prior to this, to allow him such adaptability.

Nothing speaks to this comfort more than the devil hunter's seemingly inexhaustible ability to sleep in any position or any location that will contain him, a habit that has proven bothersome to V more than once.

And while he has come to expect Nero’s strange sleeping habits when first entering the van—he has found him in every position conceivable, after all, from passed out on the floor to his face pressed against the passenger’s side window—he had not expected the devil hunter to be so comfortable that he is able to nap out in the open.

Yet that is the situation V now finds himself in. He has stumbled across Nero in such a state twice already, both times catching him so off guard as to startle him at the other man’s sudden, unexpected appearance. The first had been carelessness on V’s part—he is becoming too comfortable with the companionship, and his awareness suffers for it. He simply hadn’t noticed Nero leaning against the back of the phone booth when he had entered it, and seeing the hunter’s face pressed to the glass had been more than a little alarming at the moment. 

The second had been considerably more unusual, as far as sleeping arrangements went. V had just finished dispatching of a throng of demons that had taken up residence in a park near the city square, and he had paused to rest at the only park bench that had not been torn from the ground by the surrounding Qliphoth roots. The moment he had taken his seat, however, there had been a low grumble from beneath him, and a hand had reached out and touched his ankle.

He had stabbed Nero through the slats in the bench with his cane purely on reflex, but the hunter had taken the assault in stride, laughing and apologizing for startling V in that casually friendly way of his.

So he is not unaccustomed to Nero’s strange habit, having spent the better part of two weeks dealing with it as it arose.

Despite this familiarity, however, he had never anticipated that he would find himself here: crammed into one of the phone booths, his legs crossed and his cane tucked into the corner, with Nero sound asleep upon his shoulder.

The position the hunter has fallen asleep in is by no means comfortable, and yet he continues to prove that he is nothing if not resilient in this matter, the cramped quarters doing nothing to deter him from getting some shut eye. When they had first settled into this booth, it had simply been with the intention of calling Nico for a ride; but then the skies had opened up, and a torrential downpour had begun, and now they are weathering out the storm in the most suitable shelter they happened to have available.

Never mind how small and uncomfortable said shelter might be.

Griffon laughs in V’s mind at his discomfort, the demon having retreated into V’s subconscious in an effort to conserve space. _“Look, you gotta hand it to him. It’s kind of a special talent.”_

_Clearly,_ V thinks, tilting his head back against the glass wall of the phone booth with a small sigh. With Nero nearly collapsed upon his chest, he can’t move more than an inch or two—not that there’s anywhere to move _to_ , considering their situation. It is the first time he has been this close to another human in far too long, and the closeness sets him on edge, even as he finds that it is not a wholly uncomfortable experience.

Nero is warm and firm against his side, his breath slow and even where it spills against V’s collarbone. His hand is resting lightly in his lap, and his legs are folded awkwardly before him, the strange angle leaving V little room to stretch out on his own. Yet despite the nuisance that is their situation, V feels strangely calm, as if Nero’s mere presence is enough to sooth him.

_”Sounding pretty sappy there, V,”_ Griffon says, and V frowns, shaking his head.

_That’s enough commentary from you._

The demon simply laughs once more in response, but he at least falls quiet. In the silence that follows Griffon’s retreat, however, V finds himself focusing on the only other thing nearby to hold his attention—that is, his sleeping companion.

Nero looks peaceful in slumber, calm and relaxed in a way he is not in his waking hours, no doubt a result of their current situation. With his lips slightly parted and the usual frown that creases his brow smoothed out, he looks almost gentle, a stark contrast to the sometimes ruthless combatant that V has become more used to in their time together.

Something about it twists in V’s gut, a familiarity and a longing both rooted in a history that he is no longer sure he can call his own. It compels him to press a little closer to Nero, either way, seeking the comfort and warmth of the hunter’s body while it is safe to do so; with Nero asleep, there is no one to bear witness to his moment of weakness.

V shifts, pulling his arm free from beneath Nero’s dead weight when the limb begins to go numb. Of all of the places to fall asleep, crammed inside of a phone booth is perhaps one of the strangest, and V sighs as he attempts to find a more comfortable position with what limited room he has afforded to him.

It is without much thought that he finds himself slipping his arm around Nero’s waist, pulling the other man a little more comfortably against his side. Nero stirs in his slumber, grumbling some nonsense against V’s throat, which he presses his face against with all of the desperation of a needy cat. V stifles a chuckle at this, that same twisting warmth settling into his stomach.

He does not realize that he’s slipped his hand into Nero’s hair until the other man twitches against him once more, his warm breath against V’s neck sending a shiver down his spine. V finds he does not particularly care to stop, and so he continues to trail his fingers across Nero’s scalp, letting the short, silvery strands slip between his fingers with a small hum. 

It’s nice. That’s not a sentiment he ever thought he’d ascribe to human contact, but he thinks that perhaps his perception on this has changed as well. Focusing on Nero keeps him so occupied that he does not even hear the van approach until it has skidded onto their street, a cascade of water spraying in an arc against the side of the phone booth making him jolt in surprise. 

“Wake up, Nero,” V says quietly, sliding his arm around the other man’s shoulders and shaking him gently to wake him.

Nero grumbles against his neck, folding closer into V’s space—he is nearly sprawled on top of him now, and V laughs quietly, propping his chin upon the other man’s head with a sigh.

_”Damn, kid will sleep through anything,”_ Griffon says, and V hums.

Anything?

Wiggling his other hand free from where it has been pinned against the glass wall, V slips his fingers beneath Nero’s chin, guiding his face away from his neck and tilting his head up. Decisively he dips his head down, pressing a chaste, brief kiss to the other man’s lips before pulling back once more.

Nero starts awake with a small gasp, then blinks up at V in confusion, brow pinched. Their situation slowly dawns on him, and he blinks once more, a splash of bright red creeping into his face when he realizes what, exactly, he’s been doing in his sleep.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry—” Nero starts, and then he stops, blinks a third time, and opens his mouth in surprise. “I—did you just—”

“Nico has arrived,” V says, releasing Nero’s chin and nudging the other man so that he can begin to make his way out from beneath him. Nero complies simply from numb surprise, V thinks, and he smiles to himself in contentment at the knowledge that he has gotten some measure of revenge against the hunter for his absurd sleeping habits. “Hurry, or we’ll leave you behind.”

Before Nero can respond, V has gathered his cane, straightened his clothing, and stepped out into the rain, the sound of Nero’s footsteps following soon after.


End file.
